


tying you to me

by hippohead



Series: invisible string [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: As it should be, Famous Blaine Anderson, M/M, Popstar!Blaine, Reunion Fic, a tiny bit of angst and then a fun mixture of reunion smut and fluff, the title is a taylor swift lyric!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26081197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippohead/pseuds/hippohead
Summary: It’s been five years since Blaine kissed him goodbye at the airport, and he hasn’t seen him since.Somewhere within those five years, though, Blaine became an international pop star. Which is... not exactly ideal; not when you’re trying to neatly pack away your feelings and the fact that you’re still desperately in love with him, and his face is on every billboard in Times Square.(in which there is an invisible string, tying Kurt to Blaine, and Blaine to Kurt, and isn't that just so pretty)
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: invisible string [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939687
Comments: 68
Kudos: 173





	tying you to me

Kurt really hates being late.

It makes a certain type of panic settle in his chest that always takes too long to shake, even after he's finally arrived wherever it is that he's going. And even though this is just Rachel, still, there it is. The panic. He hurries up the last block to the loft that they used to share before he moved closer to work and slides the door open. He had tried to give his set of keys back to Rachel when he'd left, but she'd asked him to keep them for emergencies and they come in handy every Monday for their weekly cocktail catch-up.

"Rachel, hi! I'm here."

Rachel's in the kitchen with a pitcher full of ice, some unidentified liquid, and mint leaves, and she turns her head at Kurt's commotion, "Hey, did you get held up at work?"

He starts off-loading his bags and coat, his heart attempting to beat at a normal pace again. "Yeah, and there were issues on the train, too."

Rachel nods and turns back to her cocktail prep, "Take a seat, I'll be there in a second."

Kurt settles into his favourite spot on their couch - well, _her_ couch. He can't help but still think of this place as theirs, even though he hasn't lived here for a year. It still feels like some sort of home to him, though, because it had been his first one in the city.

Rachel wanders over with a mojito in each hand and passes one to Kurt. When she asks him how his day was, it's in a weird, off tone. Kurt assesses her with weary eyes and sips the cocktail - it's strong, which is probably for the best because Rachel is doing that thing where she chews her bottom lip in an attempt to stop herself from saying something. He's barely even started relaying the events of his day when she fails.

"Blaine wrote a song about you."

And then she claps a hand over her mouth, dramatically, always dramatically, and stares at Kurt wide-eyed. 

He sighs. It's all he really can do. "What?"

"I really think you should hear it," and it's muffled behind her hand.

"Rachel, I-" but he's still trying to catch up. It always takes him a little longer to catch up whenever it's anything about Blaine, because he works so hard to not think about it. About him. "I don't like listening to his stuff, you know that. I'm very happy for his success, sure, but it hurts too much."

And that was the truth. It really did hurt too much. And it's not like the hurt is rooted in some sort of awful break up, or cheating, or spiteful heartbreak. In a way, Kurt sort of wishes it was. Because it's rooted in an entirely different type of torture; they made the decision together, and so there is nothing to pin it on but circumstance.

It was their senior year and everyone had just assumed they'd move to New York together. Kurt wanted to go into fashion and Blaine wanted to do music in some capacity. Kurt had assumed, too. And that was why, when Blaine had started crying - sobbing, actually - one afternoon in the lead up to graduation, Kurt had been so blindsided. Blaine had been accepted into the music program at UCLA, and the reason he was crying was because he wanted to go. 

When he thinks back on it, he's actually quite proud of them. They were just kids but they held hands and made hard decisions and understood things about sacrifices and love and chasing dreams. They let each other go.

It’s been five years since Blaine kissed him goodbye at the airport, and he hasn’t seen him since. 

Somewhere within those five years, though, Blaine became an international pop star. Which is... not exactly ideal; not when you’re trying to neatly pack away your feelings and the fact that you’re still desperately in love with him, and his face is on every billboard in Times Square. 

"Kurt?"

Rachel's voice brings him back, and this, _this_ is why he doesn't think about him or talk about him or listen to his songs. It hurts. "Rachel, _please."_

"I wouldn't be bringing this up for no reason, okay? We've talked about this over and over, and I know how you feel about the whole situation. I also know that you're still in love with him. I really think you need to listen."

"What's it called?" and he shouldn't indulge her like this, but he can't help it.

"Noble."

Shit. It's about him. 

Rachel continues, "Do you remember what the two of you told the New Directions when you announced that you were moving to different coasts after graduation?"

Kurt just glares at her. He doesn't need to say anything; she's going to answer her own question regardless. 

"You said you were doing the noble thing, for each other."

He knows that. Of course he knows that. They'd had so many discussions, huddled together and hearts breaking over what they knew was coming. They thought they were being mature. They thought they were being _noble._

Rachel, insistent on barreling on with her plan despite the fact that Kurt doesn't want to hear the song (and also desperately wants to hear the song), grabs her phone and connects it to her speaker. And then she presses play, moves onto the couch next to Kurt, and picks up his hand.

He doesn't want the gesture at first, but then Blaine's voice is filling the apartment, and he's gripping even tighter. It sounds more acoustic compared to the pop of his other hits (sure, he doesn't actively seek out his music, but he also doesn't live under a rock) and the lyrics start out vague - they could be about any lost love, and he's sure Blaine's had plenty of options out in LA and especially now that he's famous. It could be about anyone. But then the second verse starts and the lyrics become more particular. He's singing about meeting on staircases and falling in love in a coffee shop and how holding hands felt brave.

Then the chorus.

_I'm so sick of being noble_   
_Let me take it back, take it back_   
_I can't believe that I can't still hold you_   
_Should we talk about that?_

There's a piano, and strings, and it's shattering. The way he's singing it is so desperate and it's clawing at every part of Kurt and he hates Rachel so much but he also loves her more than he'll ever admit. At some point he starts to cry, and by the time the last line is swirling in the air around them, a soft, _I'm still in love with you, is that noble?_ , he feels like he can't breathe. 

Rachel holds on to him for a long while. They let the silence hang in the air and Kurt is glad because it's easier than the song and its sentiments. Eventually, Rachel apologises, and when he looks into her eyes, he can tell that she's questioning whether or not she made the right call. 

"No, Rach, it's okay. It actually... felt nice to hear him sing. It's been awhile. It just hurts, too, that's all."

Rachel nods and says, quietly, "He still loves you."

"Yeah," he breathes. Because what else is he supposed to say?

* * *

He's not going to do anything about it. He's not.

So, Blaine wrote a song that's obviously about him. And in it, made it abundantly clear that he's still in love with Kurt. That doesn't mean he should do anything about it. It doesn't.

He hears the song for the second time standing in line at his local Starbucks. It's almost indescribable - standing in the middle of a coffee shop while your ex-boyfriend pours his heart out about how he's still in love with you over the speakers, and nobody around you _knows,_ and you have to just place your order like all of that means nothing.

The third time he hears it, he's at work. The girls in the sewing room have the radio on and he's in there looking for some fabric swatches. His hand hovers when he hears the intro. He hates that he can already recognise it from a single chord. One of the girls - he thinks her name is Hannah - squeals and claims that she loves Blaine Anderson. Kurt wants to laugh; so does he. 

By the fifth time, he's resigned himself to having this song follow him wherever he goes. He's in a cab because Elliot sent him a last-minute text about an open-mic night. There's a part of him that wants to lean forward and tell the driver that this song is about him. Instead, he leans forward and asks him to switch the station.

The last time he hears it before he does something about it, he's at home. He should be in bed, really; he has work in the morning. But Sutton Foster was billed as the guest on the Late Late Show and he's okay with throwing rational bed times to the wind for her. And it's worth it - she's funny and charming and talking about her new show and then suddenly Cordon is introducing a musical guest, and it's Blaine, and how did he miss that in the episode promo?

And seeing him - it hits him like a ton of bricks.

He's managed to successfully avoid seeing any pictures of Blaine for almost a year, which is quite a feat considering how famous he is. But his posters and billboards always have a similar styling and he's learnt how to avert his eyes the second he sees the lettering spelling out his name. He doesn't go on social media that much, anyway. And he's used every ounce of self-restraint he has ignoring the shoe box that sits on the top shelf of his wardrobe. It's full of pictures, and it hurts too much to look at them. 

He should change the channel.

Blaine looks... really good. His clothes are a little different than what he usually wears, though. A little edgier. His hair is curly, too. That's very different. He wonders when he stopped using gel.

He should change the channel.

He's sitting on a black stool and his guitar - the one that used to lean against his desk in his room back in Westerville - is resting on his thigh. Kurt remembers being seventeen and strumming his fingers along those strings, wishing he knew how to play it, while Blaine looked up at him dreamily as if he already did. Blaine (the one on his television screen) is smiling an odd, private smile, waiting for the band to start.

He should change the channel. 

He starts singing. There's a softness in his voice that feels like a caress and Kurt knows this feeling - being held by his song - but purposefully hasn't let himself feel it in a long, long time. Now, though, he does. And it's unraveling him. It's finding an entry point into his heart and sitting there, even though he thought he had closed the gates to that specific spot five years ago. It's writing: you belong with him, on his skin with fingertips. It's-

He should definitely change the channel.

But then Blaine is looking down the barrel of the camera, singing, _I can't believe that I can't still hold you,_ and there's no way he could know that Kurt is watching right now, but it feels like it's just for him.

He's crying when he opens the internet browser on his laptop. It doesn't take him long to find what he's searching for; it turns out Blaine is doing a show at the Greek Theatre in two weeks' time. He buys a ticket, near the back, and flights, too. 

And then he goes to bed. He has work in the morning.

* * *

At least twice, every single day, for the past two weeks, Kurt has regretted it. People don't just get on a plane and fly to the other side of the country over a song. It's just a song.

But then he's sitting in the benches, Blaine's voice flying around the venue, and he realises. He can barely even make out the features of Blaine's face from here, but still, he realises. 

It's not just a song.

It's hope and it's a love letter in the most personal way Blaine knows how to write and it's offering and it's something solid, in his hands, and it's up to him to figure out what to do with it. 

He cannot write a song for Blaine. But he can sing one for him, even if the song is just seeing him, and saying hello.

It feels a little weird making his way to the stage door after the show. There are fans everywhere, swarming, and he does his best to stay out of their way. He finds a nice spot off to the side and quite a few steps back from the railings. 

It takes Blaine an hour to come out. 

His hair is still a little damp, as if he's had a shower, and he's wearing normal Blaine clothes. Mustard chinos and a black polo, and the bow tie makes Kurt want to cry. But now is not the time to get sentimental; he holds onto the settled feeling he found during the concert, and waits. 

Blaine is excruciatingly thorough with his fans; everyone gets a smile and a photo and a signature, and it doesn't surprise Kurt in the slightest. He was always kind; goofiness and charm and kindness, kindness, kindness. Most people this famous wouldn't even come out to greet them in the first place. He's almost made it to the end of the queue, though, and maybe he won't see Kurt here in the shadows. Maybe that will be better, safer-

"Kurt."

He doesn't actually hear the name leave Blaine's lips - can't, he's standing far enough away for the sound to not carry and the fans that are still waiting haven't stopped their excited chatter just because Blaine noticed him. But he's seen him say that word so many times, in so many ways (casually, meaningfully, thick with adoration, gasped, whined, begged, with caution, as a last goodbye) that he'd recognise the way his lips curl around the four letters anywhere.

Kurt raises his hand a little, lets his fingers wiggle as a hello. To let him know he can't hear, but he heard him.

A young girl draws Blaine's attention back to her and Kurt sees his brows furrow, trying to refocus, and Kurt would feel bad for distracting him if the expression on his face wasn't so unbearably endearing. Blaine manages to shift back into pop star mode, and as much as Kurt's sure Blaine knows that he's not going anywhere, his eyes keep flicking from the crowd to Kurt, back and forth. 

There is no world in which Kurt doesn't wait. He's waited five years, and so what is five minutes?

Eventually, Blaine signs the last poster and poses for the last photo and then a group of security guards are making sure everyone heads off. Blaine is leaning into one, whispering something in his ear, and the man looks at Kurt, nods, and speaks into an earpiece. Two security guards move to stand between the last few fans trickling out and Kurt, and Blaine starts towards him.

Once he's close enough, Kurt says, "You know, they have these things called phones. They're really handy because when you miss someone, you can just call them. Much easier than writing, arranging and recording a song, I think."

Blaine, who has made it all the way to Kurt and is now standing in front of him, chuckles and ducks his head. Kurt can see pink in his cheeks even in the dark and he wants to reach his fingertips out to touch it, check the blush is real.

And then he looks up, the shyness gone and there's something in his manner that Kurt can only read as happiness (and maybe he's out of practice reading the lines of his face). "Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson," he counters, because it's easy to say and suddenly he's nervous. There's probably so much he's forgotten, so many new things to learn. It's been five years and he can feel that in the step of space between them.

But then the step of space disappears, and Blaine is hugging him. It's not desperate, like he thought it might be, just warm and kind and normal, and he wraps his arms around Blaine too. When Blaine pulls back, settling into where he was standing before - and there's that space again - he looks at Kurt curiously, "What are you doing here?"

Kurt has an answer to that, now. It's; I miss you like crazy and I know we thought we were doing the right thing when we broke up but I've spent five years feeling like something is missing, always, and when I think about you I can't breathe, and I was hoping that seeing you again would make air easier. But instead, he says with wryness, "I'm just a really big fan."

Blaine grins and oh, there it is. That feeling that always washed over him whenever Blaine grinned like that. He used to get to see it all the time - whenever Kurt got a solo in glee club and Blaine would cheer the loudest; if Kurt surprised him with coffee before school; across the table as they ate together for no reason other than they were in love and that was worth grinning about.

"Well, whatever the reason - I'm glad you're here. It's really nice to see you."

They fall flat, those words, because _it's really nice to see you_ doesn't feel like enough and he knows it and Blaine knows it. They know it because they look at each other and they're both oceans of unsaid things and memories and longing and _time,_ and of course it's more than just _nice_ to see each other. 

"It's really nice to see you, too," he says, because fuck it if he knows how to verbalise anything other than repeating the flat words back.

* * *

They're sitting in a booth in a quiet 24-hour diner.

It feels a little surreal that they're here, but Blaine had chuckled at Kurt's feeble reply back at the stage door and asked if he was hungry. Kurt had said yes even though he wasn't, but he has a turkey sandwich on the way and despite the fact that it's past midnight, it feels like the right call.

So does coming here.

"You heard the song, then?"

It's easy to forget how bashful and shy Blaine can be sometimes, but his fingers are fiddling and he's not quite meeting Kurt's gaze. "I did. It's... really beautiful, Blaine. I'm proud of you. You got everything you wanted."

(And does that make their decision worth it?)

His laugh is a little rough, and all he says to that, is, "Something like that."

Kurt wants to ask him what that means, but it feels too early for that kind of weight. So, instead, he asks him about what it's like to live in LA and what it's like to tour and whether or not he's met anyone famous that Kurt would care about. Blaine seems glad of the easy topics and they slip into a rhythm, a hum, as if they haven't spent five years apart. It's the most grounded Kurt has felt in a very long time. 

The sandwich arrives and it's good and Blaine picks at his fries while he asks Kurt all about Vogue and how his designs are going and what it's like to live in New York City. And when he's finishing off his last bite, Blaine asks him about their old friends. 

"I still see Rachel all the time, and Mercedes whenever she's in town. Santana and Brit, too. Oh, and Tina came to stay with me a couple of weeks back, actually."

"I miss everyone," Blaine smiles, and it's wistful. "I wish I had more time to keep in contact with them better."

"Too famous for us glee kids now, huh?"

Blaine's eyes sparkle mischievously at that, "You're lucky I'm even giving you the time of day, Hummel."

And there it is. Their easy push and pull. The teasing tone that was always so full of adoration that really, it meant, _I love you._ They still have it. He raises an eyebrow, accepting the challenge, "Well, thanks for squeezing me in on such short notice."

Blaine frowns down at his plate at that and Kurt's not sure how he took it too far when Blaine was the one joking around just a second ago. "Kurt, I-" and he frowns some more, takes a moment to collect himself, lifts back up and looks Kurt in the eye, "-I'll always have time for you, you know that, right? No matter what. If you called or if you showed up or you needed me, I'd..."

He trails off, but Kurt understands. "I know. And same."

"Good," Blaine smiles, but they've already given in to the weight. It's heavier now. They've finished their meals and it's the next step, so Blaine asks, "Where are you staying? I can- I can drop you off, if you need, or..."

And he trails off again. Kurt watches him; he's shifting a little bit, his "or..." just hanging in the air because there's no way he can finish that sentence. And so it's up to Kurt. He sets him with an important look, lets his gaze convey what his next words mean, and speaks very, very evenly.

"I didn't book a hotel."

* * *

He did actually book a hotel, and all of his stuff is there, but that feels irrelevant right now. The car ride is so silent that Kurt feels like something is going to snap. There's so much tension in the air; they both know what's going on, to some extent, but neither has explicitly verbalised it. They've barely even touched since that first hug and yet every piece of Kurt's skin feels like it's about to burst into flames.

The roads are winding and so unfamiliar and he almost lets a panic weave its way into his space at that - where on earth are they? Literally, and in a much bigger way than just geography. He wonders if this will make it worse - will he get back to New York and find that the air is even harder to breathe? But then he looks across at Blaine, his profile glowing in the street lamps they're driving past, and a small smile grows on his lips at Kurt's stare. And it's adorable, and this will be worth it.

It feels like every sound is louder in their quiet; the gate sliding open, the key in the lock, the door clicking into place behind them. Kurt wanders a few paces into the house and looks around.

"Kurt?"

Blaine is watching him from the front door, waiting for him to say something or explain something, but suddenly Kurt's not sure he's ready to admit that he knows what Blaine needs him to unravel. "Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

It's the second time he's asked it tonight, and his voice is careful and kind, checking, double-checking. 

"I don't know." And then he sighs because he _does_ know, and he pauses, waits, makes a decision all at once, and if Blaine can know how he feels, turn those feelings into lyrics and a melody and share them with the world, then he can at least say this: "Rachel forced me to listen to the song, and then I... I just needed to see you. Because - well, I think that maybe you're it for me, you know? I know we were just teenagers when we together, Blaine, but-" and he has to look away, can't face him when he says this bit, "-but I think you're the love of my life."

And it should sound silly, but it doesn't. Because how can the truth sound silly when the truth is that there's Blaine, and no one else?

Blaine doesn't say anything at first, and so Kurt has to hold his breath because he just took his heart out of his chest and threw it in between them, and he's aware of the song, the lyrics, that they're about him, but what if Blaine just kicks it away? Will it still be beating when he puts it back inside of himself?

And then, finally, "Kurt..." It's breathless, like maybe he's been holding his breath too and it means so many things. He always used to make it mean so many things, more than just his name, and clearly he still knows how to.

He doesn't kick it away, Kurt's heart; he picks it up and holds it carefully in his hands until he needs his hands for other things. He's made his way over to Kurt and the fingers of his left hand are running along Kurt's jaw. He needs his right, too, because it finds its way onto Kurt's hip, thumb pushing a little bit too hard and it's finally something desperate, a desperate gesture, and it's all Kurt needs.

He knows he's not the only desperate one.

It takes Blaine almost a full minute to kiss him. Kurt closes his eyes, feels Blaine's breath on his lips as he takes however long he needs, and Kurt doesn't mind because maybe he needs this wait too. Blaine's thumb presses harder into Kurt's hip bone. He can't expect it when Blaine finally connects their lips, his eyes still shut, but he'd rather it that way. Not knowing when. And it's so unbelievably sweet and delicate that Kurt ends up a little light-headed, or maybe he already was, and now he's just floating above the ground. Blaine's lips are so soft and Kurt had forgotten that, forgotten what this feels like, and that shoves him back down to the ground. He gasps, breaks the kiss, turns his head to the side so Blaine can't see the tear that's traveling down his cheek. 

"Hey... Kurt? Are you okay?"

The pressure of his thumb lightens and that just makes another tear fall.

"I- I'd forgotten what it was like to kiss you."

"Five years is a long time," Blaine says after a pause, so quietly that Kurt could pretend he didn't hear it if he wanted to. But the words are filled with so much understanding, like he knows how much pain is involved in this relief, that Kurt can't ignore them.

"Yeah." Kurt turns back to face him, ready to. Apologises, "Sorry for crying."

But Blaine just shakes his head, and Kurt knows that means _don't, it's okay, I understand._

Kurt pulls him back into a kiss because he remembers now, and five years _is_ a fucking long time. Blaine's thumb is pressing again, thank god, and it's joined by his other one on the other hip, too, and they're pushing Kurt back towards the wall behind him. And he slams a little bit, their lips breaking apart from the motion, and that's it. That's it.

There's a hungry growl vibrating through Blaine and he feels it in his own body when Blaine pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, sucks greedily at his neck, moves his hands up to his waist and the thumbs press in there, instead. Kurt's entire body is responding and his fingers are getting tangled into Blaine's curls and oh! That's new. He feels a tug at his earlobe, a bite into the skin just below there, is happy to note that Blaine remembers the spot, and thinks about how he never used to get to wind his fingers in hair with Blaine and revels in it now.

Blaine kisses him again, again, again, starts to take off Kurt's layers which takes a while and Blaine just laughs kindly, "I haven't missed how long it takes to..." but he doesn't finish because he's gotten to where he wanted to get, and Kurt knows he's more muscled and toned than he was the last time Blaine saw him shirtless. Blaine says, "God, you're..." and it's a murmur, eyes transfixed and his fingertips start to trace over his skin, tickling, burning him with every touch and glide. 

Kurt gives him a couple more seconds to marvel, enjoys the way it makes him feel to be marveled, and then he takes Blaine's shirt off, too. And now it's his turn to marvel and trace and touch and then they're kissing again, skin to skin, chest to chest, and it's crazy how much even just that can make this feel like everything. Blaine shifts, pushing Kurt further into the wall even though there's nowhere else for him to go, and Kurt knows Blaine felt him just then, how turned on he is, because his thigh just brushed past and Kurt's not exactly trying to hide it.

He feels Blaine's palm over his jeans, "Fuck, Kurt..." and it sounds like his breath is stuttering and god, it's so intoxicating knowing that they can still wreck each other like this. "I need to, I- I want... can I?"

And Kurt uses his tongue in Blaine's mouth to say yes, yes, yes. He's pretty sure Blaine didn't specify what he needed, wanted, was asking to do, but the answer is yes. "Yes," he gasps, "Whatever you want."

He's trying to figure out what Blaine's asking for, but he's licking down Kurt's neck, collarbone, chest, and things are starting to fall out of focus. And then he keeps going, keeps his tongue moving over his skin further and further down, and Kurt realises what he wants. 

"Here?"

They're still in the same spot and that spot is sort of nowhere, halfway between the kitchen and the lounge but it's not really a hallway. It's nowhere.

"Here," and it's almost mean, the way he says it, but Kurt knows it's just because he's already on his knees and he _needs_ to do it here. Why the fuck would they go anywhere else?

Kurt thinks maybe the word, "Okay," leaves his swollen lips but he's not entirely sure. Blaine's fingers work the button and zipper of his jeans open, works them down to his ankles, and the pressure, (his thumbs), it's on his thighs now. 

Everything's been going so fast and suddenly it stops, so Kurt opens his eyes, peeks, checks if Blaine is okay. And he is; he's just paused, head level with Kurt in his boxer-briefs, "Sorry, I just- I need a second."

Kurt nods, trying to ignore the way he feels ridiculous standing in the middle of nowhere with his pants pooled at his feet and Blaine just looking at him, _there._ And then Blaine pushes his nose forward, placing a light kiss to Kurt over the fabric, their eyes locking as Blaine pulls on the waistband until they've joined his jeans at his ankles.

Blaine drops his gaze, sees him, huffs out a breath that lights Kurt on fire. Says, "I've missed you," and Kurt barks out a laugh at that. Blaine brings his gaze up again, and there's that grin, the one Kurt loves so much. He runs his fingers through Blaine's curls one more time just because he can and because he looks so beautiful at this height, and he watches as the grin falls, Blaine eyes darkening at the same pace.

And then he drags a flattened tongue up Kurt, licks over the head, moans when he tastes him, sinks his mouth over him.

Kurt says, "Fuck," as if the wind is being knocked out of him, and it kind of feels like it is. 

Blaine finds a rhythm that's sure and thrilling and Kurt notices that he's gotten better at this, and then he fights that thought, doesn't want to think about _how_ he's gotten better at it. Focuses instead on the movement of Blaine's head and how it connects to the pleasure that's coursing through every single vein in his body.

Kurt is aware, somewhat, that he's letting out small, quiet whines that sound like the perfect mixture of desperate and dirty, but it's when he gasps as if he has no control over the way his breath is coming in and out of his body that Blaine really reacts to. And just when he's starting to wonder if he can last much longer, being this overwhelmed, Blaine's finger is running over Kurt's hole, not pushing or asking for anything more, just remembers that Kurt loves the tease. And he's not sure if it's the tease or the fact that Blaine remembers that does it - gets him all the way there - but he's pulling at Blaine's ear to let him know in case he wants to move off.

He should have known he wouldn't.

When he breaks, snaps, he feels it in every crevasse of himself, and Blaine keeps his mouth on him all the way through. His hands find his hips again and he keeps Kurt there, holding him up. And when Kurt's done, spent, he moves back and Kurt's eyes are half-lidded as he sinks to the floor. He wants to just sit there, tangled up in his jeans they never got all the way off and Blaine's legs, but then he notices that Blaine is moving his hand over himself through his chinos. 

"Let me."

"Kurt, it's okay. I'm so- I'm almost-"

But Kurt insists, so Blaine takes the rest of his clothes off and comes back to the floor where Kurt is huddled, legs kicked out in front of him. He straddles Kurt, resting on his thighs and Kurt takes him in his hand, strokes him to it, strokes him through it. He wasn't lying; he was almost there, but Kurt watches the few moans and the few groans, wishes he could taste them, and then cleans them up with Blaine's shirt afterwards. He assumes he can afford dry-cleaning. 

Blaine slumps forward, forehead resting on Kurt's shoulder, which he kisses, and they do nothing but breathe and catch their breath and settle in the moment. It's a really special one. And then - 

"Kurt, will you- will you come with me?"

He wants to say something corny like, 'I just did,' but he's so wrecked that he just nods his head, yes, because he'd go anywhere Blaine asks him to. Maybe he says that out loud, he's not sure, but Blaine is helping him up and pulling his pants and boxers free from his ankles and then they're walking through Blaine's house, completely bare, hands clasped together.

Neither of them say anything as Blaine pulls back the covers on his bed. Kurt slides in, Blaine follows, then pulls the covers back over them. They lay facing each other for a moment, breaths mixing in the space on the pillow between them, and then Blaine grabs Kurt's hand and twists his own body until Kurt's entire arm is around Blaine's waist and he smiles; Blaine always did love being the little spoon. 

And then they fall asleep.

* * *

Kurt wakes up to Blaine's lips on his shoulder, pressing gentle kisses to the curve of it.

He blinks his eyes a few times, willing them to adjust to the light in the room coming through the half-closed curtains. And he's smiling already - dumbly, and full of all the love he's tried to repress for the past five years. There's so much pouring out of him, making up for lost time, and he turns his head to look at Blaine.

Blaine meets his eyes and smiles too, and it's crinkles and grinning and just as much love back. He kisses his shoulder again and then moves down his arm, pressing them onto every inch. "Sorry," he murmurs and the word slides against Kurt's skin, "I just can't believe you're really here."

And - yeah. He's laying in Blaine's bed, ravelled with his limbs and scent and soft, grounding touches. He honestly thought he'd never get this ever again. "Me either."

"Mm. Maybe I should use songwriting as a means to get what I want more often."

Kurt laughs, tuts from his side of the bed. 

"You heard it here first, Kurt; Blaine Anderson's latest hit single, _Lets Have Morning Sex_."

"Oh god, I've created a monster."

And then he gives him exactly what he wants anyway. They're already naked, so it doesn't take long before he's kissing down Blaine's chest and re-memorising the way it drives Blaine crazy when he licks at his nipples like that, and what he says comes out incoherent because full sentences are hard right now, "Where's your- is it... the top drawer?"

Blaine shakes his head, already breathless too, "Bottom."

Kurt can't help but pause and look at him, eyebrows raised, and it's too easy. He walked right into it.

"Too on the nose?" Blaine laughs.

Kurt laughs too, and it sounds so nice to hear their laughs mixing together, and he kisses him and confirms, "Very on the nose."

* * *

This part - the part where Blaine makes him blueberry pancakes in nothing but an apron in the kitchen of the house that he owns - is very new.

The last time they were them, they were both still living under their parent's roofs and everything intimate had to be quick and quiet and on edge. Pancakes were made fully clothed. But he is absolutely, unequivocally not complaining about this adjustment. 

They'd had a shower after Kurt had made Blaine's fake song come true, and as he watches Blaine move around his kitchen with ease, a million questions are running through his head.

"You stopped gelling your hair?"

Blaine turns to him with a spatula in his hand, "Oh, yeah. The label wanted to change my image up a bit to fit with my latest album; I still wear my own clothes when I can, but I kind of liked the hair."

"I like it, too." Blaine turns back to the stove, but Kurt can't help himself, "Did you finish your degree in the end?"

The spatula and Blaine are facing Kurt once again, but this time he's turned the element off and is making his way over to where Kurt is sitting on the kitchen bench. "I did the second half of it as distanced learning, but yeah, I did. Are you okay?"

Maybe Kurt's transparent or maybe Blaine just still knows how to read him, "I just feel like there's so much I don't know anymore. I used to know it all."

Blaine takes a deep breath and it's calming, "We have time now to learn again, to fill in the gaps."

"Do we? Don't get me wrong, Blaine, I want there to be time. But... we're still in the same place we were in five years ago. As in, two different places. I mean, unless we've changed our minds on long-distance, I can't see how-"

But - Blaine is smirking. And Kurt's not exactly sure why. This conversation isn't really something Kurt wants to smirk about.

"I thought you said you were a big fan?" he says, smirk staying firmly in place.

Kurt raises his eyebrows, a question. 

"Haven't you heard my news?"

Oh. Well, "I actually have your name blocked on Google and all social media."

This time, it's Blaine who raises his eyebrows.

Kurt wishes this whole trip could just be fun and playful and sex and remembering. But if he wants it to be even more than that, which he does, it can't be. They have to do this, talk, figure things out. It's not noble and mature to let each other go when they desperately _want_ each other, but it doesn't mean there isn't shit to sort out. "Turns out, it's quite painful when your ex becomes a global superstar and you see his face or hear his voice every five seconds of the day. I couldn't take down the billboards, or never hear you sing, but I could filter my phone a bit. Sorry."

Blaine looks down sadly and huffs, "I hate that that's what I am to you - an ex. I mean, I know it's true but it just feels so wrong to hear it."

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, because he does agree, but he doesn't know what else to say.

"They're reviving _She Loves Me._ Well, again."

Kurt nods, confused, "Rachel mentioned something about that." He tried his best to keep up with Broadway but sometimes Vogue got too busy and he had to rely on whatever information Rachel gave him. And Rachel _had_ mentioned something about the revival - she'd wanted to audition for Amalia, but it had clashed with rehearsals or something. He had no idea why Blaine was bringing it up. 

"I'm opening the show as Georg."

And _that_ was why Blaine was bringing it up. "On Broadway?"

He knew he meant on Broadway, but he just had to check, to hear the words out loud so it could really sink into his bones what that meant, what Blaine was trying to tell him, and suddenly the smirk makes sense: they will have time.

"On Broadway," he confirms. "I'm doing a three-month run."

And all at once, it dawns on him: Kurt knew Rachel was still in touch with Blaine - she had once exclaimed how comforting it was to have someone that really understood her success on such a deep level and it had taken everything he had to not lose it at her. Rachel had casually talked about the _She Loves Me_ audition on more than one occasion, probably hoping that he'd inquire about it more than he did. _I wouldn't be bringing this up for no reason, okay?_ He narrows his eyes at Blaine, "Are you in cahoots with Rachel Berry?"

"What?" he gasps, feigning innocence. "Of course not."

But the pull of his smile gives him away. "Oh my god, you are, aren't you?"

Blaine laughs and ducks his head, but then his face falls into something more serious, "I may have checked in with her about whether or not you would... if it was okay for me to release the song. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but I was too scared to contact you personally about it."

"Did she tell you to do it?"

"She just..." and he hesitates, probably trying to figure out if it's okay to dob Rachel in like this, "She hinted at the fact that maybe you felt the same way. That you- that you hadn't fallen out of love with me, either."

"Hm," he murmurs, but he isn't mad. "Well, I guess I'm glad she did, or else we wouldn't be here."

"Kurt, can I say something?"

And he nods, trying to quell the nerves that the sentence immediately lights.

"I'm doing this three-month run, and then I'm- well, I was planning on staying in New York. I have a friend who just moved to Brooklyn and she wants me to record my next album at the studio she's setting up there. And I- I had this whole plan to get myself set up and then surprise you with a big romantic gesture to get you back, to see if there was any chance-" but he cuts himself off, and he seems nervous even after the events of the last twelve hours.

Kurt is trying to school his features into something understanding and listening, but he feels giddy and restless with the news that Blaine is planning to move to New York long-term. "Big romantic gesture?"

Blaine chuckles, "I was still work-shopping it, but it involved a flash mob and old school choirs and me serenading you, so it's probably for the best that you bet me to it."

"I hardly think stalking you after your concert counts as a romantic gesture."

"Flying across the country to see me play does."

"Well, you wrote me a song," he counters. 

"Yeah, but it's sort of a sad one. Can I write you a new one?"

And Kurt just looks at him, all smiling and earnest and willing to give Kurt his heart and his songs, and tells him yes. 

Blaine pushes himself between Kurt's knees on the bench and kisses him in a way that already feels familiar again, "We were always going to find our way back to each other."

And Kurt nods, because it feels silly, now, that there was a time when he didn't think that. Of course they would find their way back to each other. Time is curious and a mystery, and who knows why right now was when it was meant to happen, but Kurt wouldn't change this moment for anything. "I love you."

"I love you too, Kurt. So much."

And then they eat their pancakes, and they're start-again pancakes, and they taste that sweet.


End file.
